


Sunrise

by prince_rivailles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Worship, Bottom Eren Yeager, Canon Era, Confessions, Consensual Sex, Eren is a little broken, First Time, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I promise it ends happy!!, Levi loves Eren unconditionally, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Romance, Smut, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), canonverse, hickeys and marks, protective!Levi, seriously manga spoilers up to recent chapter!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25484002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prince_rivailles/pseuds/prince_rivailles
Summary: He was the flames of their war, and now, he is the ashes of this world. Levi let him go once, but never again.
Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager
Comments: 27
Kudos: 346
Collections: 18+ Ereri Discord Server Summer Exchange 2020





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shittyfoureyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittyfoureyes/gifts).



> I was very excited to be able to gift canonverse to you, so I hope you will enjoy this piece of canonverse even a little bit! 
> 
> I wholeheartedly apologize for the angst that I tried to limit and failed...miserably, but I hope it's bearable. After all this is a fic about hope, healing, Levi's unconditional love for Eren and that even the broken can rise from the ashes. Enjoy! ♥

_He walked into the ocean for them, Levi let him.  
He took their despair, their cries; he gifted them hope.  
He wore their chains, he shouldered their sins.  
He took their world, he burned it to the ground.  
He rebuilt their future, he asked for nothing.  
He was the devil, and he was their hero.  
He ended the war, he bled for them._

_He was the flames of their war,  
And now, he is the ashes of this world._

_Levi let him go once, but never again._

. . . . .

**Right After**

On the day Eren died for their sins, Levi found him.

Amongst the ashes and bare as the day he was born, his eyes were the hues of a ghost. 

But against the impossible of odds--

There, beneath the smoke and debris of titan regeneration, his heart had beat--loud enough that it had stilled the unsteady races of Levi’s pulse.

_Eren was alive._

When Levi found him after the war, Eren had resembled more of a carcass than the boy he had known. But it's been years and then some, he's not that boy anymore. That one died somewhere between the basement and the time they first stepped foot in the ocean.

He's the man who dared to wage war against the world. 

He started the rumbling. He brought upon the apocalypse. He ended the war.

He’s the man who died for their sins, who broke the chains of their past and granted them freedom.

And?

He came back.

. . . . .

**Right Before**

The day Eren tells him he’s leaving, Levi wants to say he’s surprised, but he’s not. The curse of a titan’s life is anything but immortality and he knows Eren’s made up his mind. There’s no amount of convincing on his part to stop him and Levi, has never been that person to stop him, either. No, Eren has always been free to make the choices he wants, even if it’s paths that Levi cannot follow. So Levi won’t stop him.

Not even as his heart shutters in his chest, his mind blank with the apprehension of what he's supposed to say at a time like this. His parting words. 

What could he even say?

"Come back," Levi finally blurts. "Whatever happens, however this ends. If you've got four years left to live, one year, months--I don't care. Just, when this is all over, come back Eren."

He knows he’s asking for the impossible, that the chances of either of them being alive at the very end are slim, but he says it anyway. If they survive, if Eren survives, he wants him to know--that he wants Eren to come back. Levi isn't delusional, isn't about to hope for the impossible, but he just hopes that at the end he'll see Eren again at the very least.

And maybe it’s only humor. That they’re both humoring each other until the very end when Levi asks Eren not to stay, but to _come back_ and Eren looks at him, without an ounce of regret in his eyes and promises anyways. 

“I promise,” Eren breathes, just as he leans in and kisses him the last time before he goes. 

Before Levi let’s him go.

. . . . .

**After**

He walked into the ocean for them, Levi let him.

He came back.

Levi never expected him to, never expected Eren to return even if he had promised. Levi was used to broken promises, used to dreams that never came to light and endings that came too soon. It’s awfully poetic, but death was never convenient and yet somehow, it had turned a blind eye to them this time.

He never expected to find Eren, of all people, still breathing in the field of post-apocalypse. Crisp, crimson, the terrain around them had become nothing more; they breathed only death.

And they should be used to it now--the smell, the sight, the feel, but he isn't--and it shows. When Levi finds him, Eren’s against some tree, fingers clutched against bark and barely holding himself up as he dry heaved--the contents of his stomach all over that tree.

He doesn't blame him; Levi feels sick, too.

There aren't any amount of years where he'll be used to this; it's not a matter of experience, it's not about sensitivity or being weak. It’s not anything except the tell-tale sign that after everything, they're still alive, that they're still human even when they feel anything but. 

It’s never been closer to the truth--feeling dead--and standing there with the shrouds of death assaulting their every senses, they had all resembled more of the bodies on the ground than ones still breathing.

But Levi’s not used to this look. At least, not from the boy who had once worshipped the ground beneath his boots, the one who had sung of hope in his eyes and fight in his fist--the boy who had blinded even the sun.

And worst yet, he knows this look on Eren isn’t temporary; it’s not just a phase that comes with standing in the midst of nothing more than a poorly assembled graveyard. It runs much deeper than that.

He was the flames of their war, and now, he is the ashes of this world.

But that's alright.

It is, and it will be alright. Not now, not tomorrow, but someday, because--

He came back.

And Levi can't ask for anything more. 

He won't pray to a God he doesn't believe in. He won't turn to the stars and dare to believe in a miracle; Eren returning is the miracle. Perhaps it’s the only miracle in his lifetime, but he'll take what he can get and Eren--Eren is more than he deserves, more than he dared to ever hope for.

Three years, two years, or one--he’s not certain how much time Eren has left--but he’ll take it.

He'll take Eren back.

He’ll take Eren and all the time he has left to promise the light back into those eyes. This time, he’ll bring back the boy who had blinded the sun. He’ll relight those eyes, the ones of hushed spoken dreams that had been beyond their grasp, but aren't anymore. Those eyes that had made even Levi want to believe in happy endings in a horror story.

Levi let him go once, but never again.

. . . . .

When Eren first looks at him after the war, it’s without a doubt, pain in his eyes. Pain, apologies, guilt, concern; it’s a thousand words in a single look and it’s the one that leaves his lips too, as he breathes just his name.

“Levi.”

And Levi shushes him, closes the distance between them and wraps his cloak--the tattered one that’s definitely seen better days--around his bare shoulders. Not because he looks cold, but because Levi wants to. Wants to do so much more than wrap a cloak around Eren, but it is hardly the time or place to do much more.

Eren tries again, to perhaps explain the last year, his thoughts, his actions and all the other things that Eren thinks Levi is thinking about too, in the span of a sentence, when Levi isn’t--can’t. Levi’s too caught up on the fact that Eren standing before him is all that matters, but Levi can tell that Eren doesn’t see that.

Can tell with the way that he's at a loss for words, at the way he hesitates and conflict flickers across his face, his lips parting but no words escaping. When it finally does, he starts as if it's painful to do so and Levi has no doubts that it is. 

There’s that look of tiredness in his eyes from a man that’s lived through too much as he begins, "Levi, I--"

"It doesn't matter," Levi interrupts, again, stopping him and surprising even himself.

He's rehearsed quite possibly too many times, too many occurrences behind closed doors and in the recesses of his mind, for what he'd say when or if he ever saw Eren again, but the words that leave his lips this time were not one of those words. It’s not what he’s practiced. It’s not what he’s held back for so long and yet when he says them out loud this time, to Eren, not his imagination or the walls, Levi realizes it’s nothing more than the truth.

_It doesn't matter._

And Levi knows, with the peace that settles inside of him as he breathes those words, that it doesn’t.

It really doesn’t.

There are things he knows that they can never come back from, points crossed that teetered along the edge of morally right and wrong, but there was never an answer so black and white. Given the choice between the impossible and the world, Eren had been the only one who had rejected the cruelty of the world, who had dared to burn this world to the ground and from its ashes, carve the fate of their futures. 

He was the only one who had done what it took, whatever it took, to end the cycle of hatred. And even if the cost of doing so had been more than anyone else may have been willing to pay, Eren’s paid the price; he’s more than done so.

Let the world be damned, he wants to say, but he knows it's not true; that it’s not what Eren fought for.

They’re in shambles now, but Levi knows that there will be a time when the world would flourish. That Eren would watch it flourish and he’d shoulder the sins as he has already done, for now until the end of time, and the world would go on. 

The world would be just fine, even if Eren would not and Eren’s already given all that he’s got, there isn’t any fight left in him. But Eren’s fought for the world, he’s fought for them all and so Levi will continue to fight--this time, for Eren. 

. . . . .

It’s hours and hours later that they finally find shelter somewhere he’s not even certain of anymore. Not with the walls that have fallen or the land that has almost been ruined beyond recognition.

By some chance they find a part of a city--or what’s left of it--that hasn’t catastrophically been damaged. By even greater chance, they find some room--with a bed. It’s clean enough that Levi doesn’t suggest sleeping in a tree that night. 

The moment the door shuts behind them, Levi feels days, weeks, and years of exhaustion that creeps up on him and aches within his bones. At this point, he’s sure it’s been more than forty hours since he’s last shut his eyes for more than minutes at a time, longer even since he’s gotten proper sleep.

And he can’t feel his feet, he can’t feel his fingers. His entire body feels as if he has been stomped by a titan and he’s never felt so damn dirty in his life. But even with these thoughts, these lack of feelings in his limbs, he’s sure that Eren looks worse than he does. If it’s been forty hours since Levi has slept, he doesn’t want to think about how long it’s been for Eren. Eren had more or less only moved along so far because Levi had dragged him along.

But he’s exhausted, he can think about this tomorrow.

_Tomorrow._

Because the war is over. Eren is here, they are alive, and for the first time--there _is_ a tomorrow. A tomorrow that feels as foreign to him as the thought that the sun will rise and it won’t be war that he breathes. No, he’ll breathe ashes and burning wood, he’ll inhale dust and dodge the smell of decay, but he won’t hear the tremors of lightning crackling in the distance and the sound of fights he cannot win. 

Tomorrow the sky will blend between night and day and Levi won’t wonder if it’s their last. 

. . . . .

The next time Levi wakes, it’s out of habit that he does.

With the edges of sleep still clinging to him, he almost forgets where he is. It’s still dark out, but the light of the moon illuminates enough of the room that when he blinks again, it’s Eren that he sees blinking back at him.

_Eren._

For a moment, Levi simply stares. Stares into the depths of Eren’s eyes that are a pool of emotions Levi can’t read, but even half asleep he doesn’t miss the way that his heart aches and longs. Longs for a time that has passed, Eren’s eyes now dulled from the colors of life. 

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Eren states softly. He reaches the backs of his fingers and skims them against the shadows beneath Levi’s eyes, the ones that are prominent even under the moonlight. There’s a frown on his lips and almost a hint of accusation in his voice.

And Levi’s eyes narrow slightly, face leaning forward into the touch almost instinctively. It’s been a long time since Eren’s been this observant with him and after so long, he’s not used it; it feels almost too personal. Even if they’ve always been personal--after the first time, and the second, and the third; they’ve come a long way since their days as anything else.

He’d almost forgotten how that felt though. 

“Sleeping is not exactly a luxury during an all-out war,” Levi replies dryly, his eyes flickering to just beneath Eren’s eyes, too. “But you’re one to talk. How long have you been awake?”

Eren shrugs, the shift of his shoulders rustling the sheets as his thumb brushes across Levi’s cheekbones now. It’s Levi’s heart that doesn't seem to be able to rest though; it's thump, thump in his chest a loud contrast to the way his eyes beg to close again. He’s not certain how he can feel so strongly when the rest of his body aches with the crippling need for rest, but here he is, his heart having a mind of its own. 

The way it always has.

Maybe that’s the one thing that hasn’t changed. That and Eren’s hands, that are as warm as he remembers. The traces of his hand over Levi’s face so gentle, the day’s events almost seem to fade away. Gentle enough that eventually, Levi gives in. Gives into the dreams that maybe, just maybe, there had been a flicker of warmth he’d seen in Eren’s eyes just before he had shut his own. 

“You must be exhausted though,” Levi murmurs.

Eren hums in response, his voice gentler somehow than even his touch. “Go to sleep, Levi. Don’t worry about me.”

And he remembers thinking, just before the welcoming embraces of sleep claimed him, that he doesn’t think there will ever be a time where he’ll stop worrying about Eren.

. . . . .

After the war, they attempted normality. 

In reality, they’re anything but. 

Normal people don’t grow silent for entire days at a time or snap up without a reason. They don't wake up and see blood on their hands, even if the touch of crimson isn’t tangible. They won’t close off from the world and have days where the dark look in their eyes is all that is there. 

Levi knows it’s a process. He knows it’s a part of healing and that it’s not just time that heals all wounds--though he knows, it never truly will, either--but also being able to face their internal battles. Ones where Levi has no choice but to leave Eren be and watch from the sidelines of the one war that he cannot fight. 

Not Eren’s, at least.

But Levi has his own battles; the nightmares that leave him waking in the midst of darkness, grasping blindly until it’s Eren’s pulse that he feels beating beneath his fingers.

Beating, beating.

Alive.

His biggest fear these days is losing Eren, _now_ \-- after the war -- and the curse of the Titan looming above certainly doesn’t help. Back then, he hadn’t feared for Eren’s death. He expected it, both Eren’s and his own, but now?

Now they’ve got time. Only Levi worries, there isn’t enough.

And so Levi will have days of overthinking. He will feel an irrational amount of anger that can’t be justified and he knows he’s acting insane. Insane, irrational, obsessive -- because really, how are you supposed to describe the fear for the time that ticks and ticks but Eren doesn’t look as if he’s had any progress in even looking marginally more alive?

He’d promised to bring back that Eren though. The one back then, with eyes that breathed of life and volumes of strength and hope. He promised, but some days, it's one look at Eren and he fears that he won’t make it in time. That Eren will pass away just this, an empty shell of who he used to be and it’s the tick tock of time that taunts him. And then it’s the anger that he’ll feel--for himself, for not doing enough, for being powerless to _do more_ and it’s the anger that he shouldn’t be feeling this way, irrational and just as lost as Eren looks. 

The war has passed and their enemies are dead, but Levi thinks a man’s greatest enemy is quite possibly just themselves. Themselves and time.

Always time.

The last thing they are is normal.

. . . . .

Post-war leaves people in strange places.

Stranger even when Levi considers the view he has on the deck of their cabin and the number of days that he’s lost count of doing almost nothing. They’re somewhere in the country now, with a cabin overlooking a field. Miles and miles of a field that stretches on and on and this time, it isn’t a graveyard. It doesn’t smell of the charred crisp of the dead, it doesn’t stain from blood-soaked wounds and memories of the war. It’s a field of golden grass that feels as soft as they look. It’s the kind of grass that billows in the wind, with birds that chirp in the distance and feels like another world altogether. Somehow, this field had been untouched by the war, and in all its pure natural beauty, even Levi feels at ease.

Or as close as he can be, with all things considered. 

The next half of the year following the war Eren spends most of it on-off dozing between the only bliss he gets when the crease between his eyes disappears and the nightmares that jolt him awake, more rattled than a man of Eren’s age should ever look. Then, he’ll proceed to skip sleeping all together for the next twenty-four hours, or more, until he finally crashes and sleeps against the grounds of the deck, a wall, or at the kitchen table. 

In post-war, they’re all just falling pieces of a puzzle trying to find their place, trying to find their peace and somehow, it’s even harder than it sounds. But this place, it’s serene, pure and untouched form, has Levi hoping that it’s another step closer to completing the puzzle. Levi hopes that when Eren wakes -- not from the on-off slumber he’s had for the past months -- but truly wakes, he’ll enjoy it, too.

. . . . .

Eventually, they talk about it. 

In parts, at least. Levi doesn’t expect Eren to recite the tales of two thousand years to him, nor does he need a history book, but talking about it helps even in the smallest quantities and it’s a part of moving on.

So under the stars with too much scotch one night, Eren tells him. Eren tells him about the time he spent in Liberio under the guise of a wounded soldier. He doesn’t skim over the gruesome details, doesn’t even flinch when he tells Levi about the time he sawed off his leg and stabbed out his eye, but _shit_ , Levi does -- flinches, his fist growing white with how tightly he held his own bottle of scotch. Eren is a different kind of monster, Levi thinks, for what he did. For what Eren did for them all.

Eren talks about the differences of Zeke and his own childhood, about Grisha and it’s not anger or bitterness in his tone, but sadness. Eren doesn’t blame Zeke for what had happened, for what he did. Not even when it had been himself, in the end, who had finally killed Zeke.

“I’m a murderer,” Eren confesses as he recounts too, how he’d resolve to kill thousands of innocents caught in the crossfire and woke up only to do it again.

And again.

Because he had to. Because Eren didn’t remember how to stop fighting and if he stopped, they would die; Levi would die. And so he had fought.

And fought. 

Until he hadn’t remembered a time when his body hadn’t bled, or when steam hadn’t emitted from the wounds of his body. And even then, when his fingers had scarred and his shifter lines had become almost permanent beneath his eyes, he still fought.

Levi had held his breath at some point, not even realizing that he had, but it’s the exhale he lets out at the very end when Eren turns, with eyes as dead as the day Levi found him and admits, _this was the war they made_ , that Levi breathes.

This was the war they made. Their ancestors of a thousand years past. Eren Kruger. Grisha Yeager. Himself.

And Eren, more haunted than Levi has ever seen, admits too, that he hadn’t expected to live when he had put an end to this war.

“But by some miracle of fate or mockery of God, I did. When that battlefield ran with nothing more than ear shattering silence, somehow, it wasn’t my last breath.”

Eren swallows the gulp of scotch and then says so quietly, that if Levi had so much as moved, he thinks, he would’ve missed it. “Somehow, I came back.”

. . . . .

In body, he’s here, but some days, Levi isn’t sure that Eren truly is. 

He came back, as Eren had told him that night.

He’s fine. 

_Fine_ he insists--though Levi hadn’t asked, hadn’t questioned whether or not he was, but it’s like Eren said it to believe it himself. To pretend like he wasn’t drowning from the noises inside his head or the fragments of the past he couldn’t escape from. It’s those days where Levi thinks Eren’s somewhere closer to the past, between two thousand years’ worth of memories and the choices he’s made than he’ll ever be to Levi next to him in the present.

Those days, Eren would disappear without a word. He’ll make his way down to the beach and step into the sand, but even the sand, warmed by the afternoon sun, won’t be enough to fill the cold inside of him.

The sun will beam from its highest point in the afternoon until it wanes into the evening rays as Eren sits against a tree, grounded only by the feel of the bark digging subtly into his back and the sand underneath. He’ll watch the waves sweep back and forth, he’ll taste the salt against his lips and feel the cold on his skin. It's a dangerous game, the kind where his fingertips dig into the sand beneath him as he closes his eyes and lets the smell and feel of ocean breeze over him as he wonders and wonders -- how his heart still beats.

But it does. Thump, thump, thump--its rhythmic beat like a traitorous song that he can't forget, like his memories, too. And then Eren's fist will clench against the sand, his heart will grow heavier still and he’ll be cold all over again as he thinks the unthinkable-- 

That he should have died that day, when the taste of blood had been its strongest.

. . . . .

It’s hours later when night falls, that Eren finally stumbles his way out of the forest. Where he expects darkness though, it’s torches he sees instead. Torches each lit ten feet away following the path down the field and guiding him back home. There’s only one person who would have lit this path.

Five steps away from his door, Eren looks up and Levi is waiting there. 

Of course he is. 

The lantern hung outside illuminates just enough for Eren to make him out. His short stature and undercut hair, the bangs just shy of his eyes and even under the flickers of dim light, the shadows that rest beneath those eyes.

The shadows that are still there. 

And Eren blinks, blinks away from staring too hard at Levi, as he cautiously greets, “Levi.”

“Eren.” 

Levi sounds almost just as cautious, but it’s a soft smile that Eren thinks he sees on those lips, not anger. Not disappointment, or anything more than the kind of worry that Eren fears has become permanent on his face. And it makes him feel... _something_. Something that he’s sure that he’s forgotten, but it’s familiar and warm, the same way that it is when Levi looks at him now.

So Eren exhales, the apology already on the tip of his tongue. “Sorry.”

 _I’m sorry_ , he wants to say, for _everything_ because he’s never apologized and Levi hadn’t let him, but he is. Sorry for the war, for the things that he’s done and can’t undo. _Sorry_ , because he knows that Levi has probably spent the whole day waiting for him. Waiting and waiting, because no matter how many times Eren disappears, Levi is still here.

Still waiting for him. And he doesn’t think he deserves this kind of patience, this amount of waiting, this... whatever this is.

But Levi will shrug and glance down at the bottle of scotch in his hand instead. The type that used to be so scarce and rare, more expensive than a portion of meat, but he would share it with Eren. Eren never knew how Levi managed to have a bottle back then, but he suspects it's something to do with his past, the one underground and habits he wouldn't talk about anymore.

It's not so scarce now. These days, scotch is as common as bread. 

"Don't be." Levi raises the bottle slightly, head tilted a bit as he looks at Eren next and asks, "Can we...?"

And Eren will nod as they both step inside.

They’ll eat and drink, in silence. The taste of scotch and the taste of some soup that Levi’s brought back from the newest tavern back in town. Apparently, Levi’s made it his mission to find the best kind of comfort food from all the new places that have slowly started opening back up. And it’s good he supposes, better than all those years of eating bread and watered down soup, but he doesn’t really taste anything. Not the burn of the alcohol, not the taste of the soup that’s supposed to be comforting. Not when he’s still lost out there, somewhere in the ocean. 

Levi doesn’t seem to mind though.

Eren reeks of Earth and smells like the ocean, he feels cold and clammy like the sand under the shade he’d spent all afternoon on, but after dinner, Levi kisses him anyways. 

Kisses him and drags him off to the shower. Levi runs the hot water across them both and lets it wash away the grime, the muddled thoughts of lasting sand and the dark ones that he never voices out loud. Levi lets the water warm them both until he no longer feels cold, not with the way that Levi will look at him so fondly as he runs the sponge across his chest, so carefully like some kind of glass, that Eren will have to eventually look away.

“Don’t do that,” Eren protests as soap sponges across his collarbones and foams around his shoulders.

Levi quirks a brow as he brings the sponge down the lengths of Eren’s arms. “Do what?”

Eren swallows and then, quietly he says, “Look at me like that.”

But Levi hears him and his fingers take a hold of Eren’s chin, tilts him, until his eyes are meeting Levi’s again and all that he sees is gray. Gray like the storm that builds within him, gray that should be colorless and dull, but even the monotone of Levi’s gray are somehow more comforting than the blue he’s seen all day and Eren wants to ask, how he does that -- how his gray looks more colorful than anything else Eren sees. Even now. 

“I’ve always looked at you like this,” Levi defends, but the way he says it is something closer to ‘ _let me look at you like you matter, because you do, to me_ ’.

And maybe he has, but Eren doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t understand how time can pass and Levi still looks at him the way he did back then -- like what’s happened, truly doesn’t matter. Like for Levi, some things haven’t changed and it only makes the guilt that bubbles inside his chest increase, but it’s been a long enough day, so he says nothing. 

. . . . .

One night, it comes up in conversation. 

Eren furrows his brows, his eyes a storm as he finally asks, “How can you say ‘it doesn’t matter’?”

But it’s the look on his face that's asking -- _How can you say it doesn’t matter when it does to everyone else? When it still eats me up with guilt? When even I think it matters?_

Eren looks almost like he’s afraid of the answer. Afraid that after all this time, this time, Levi will hand him the cold hard truth--his version of it--where Levi laughs like it’s some sick joke and tell him, _of course it fucking matters._

But it doesn’t.

And it’s not that Levi doesn’t understand. It’s that he’s certain Eren can drag him down to hell with him--beyond the hell they’ve already lived through or the one that replays in their dreams--and Levi will still unconditionally forgive him, even if it’s not forgiveness that he’s giving Eren now but something else.

Eren doesn’t need forgiving, not in Levi’s heart. Not now, probably not ever.

“Because,” he starts, “We’re not gods. No one is here to judge the fate of what you did and it’s not like the rest of us haven’t been out there without blood on our hands.”

Levi levels to Eren’s eyes and doesn’t waver. “You did what you had to. You did what the rest of us, what the world--couldn’t--wouldn’t do. So it doesn’t matter. There are no wars without casualty; there are no battles without loss. The dead may never return, but you did. You’re alive and it’s not so you can live through your guilt, it’s because you made this world a better place and now, it’s your time to live, too. You saw the towns that have been rebuilt, you’ve seen the people. They’re living, they’re not cowering in fear, and the rest of us? We’re not out there still fighting an impossible war.”

Eren shifts, but Levi stands his ground, “It’s because of you. You gave us this, Eren. So it doesn’t matter. _I promise_ that when I say it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Not to me.”

Then Levi reaches over to Eren’s hand, takes it into his own and runs a thumb across the back as he pleads, “It’s over, Eren. You can let go. You can live now.”

And Eren will inhale a breath, as Levi kisses just against his ears--

 _“You’re free._ ”

. . . . .

The night that Levi lays Eren bare against the sheets, Eren’s eyes flutter shut, the lashes of his eyes fanning out against his skin like blooming petals that leave Levi entranced.

He always is. 

Always was, even the very first time. 

. . . . .

**Before**

The first time Eren asks him, he’s fifteen. 

Sullen and serious, he walks in like a man on death row and Levi supposes that it’s not too far from the truth. He’s got every reason to look that way, for what tomorrow brings is no guarantee of life. Tomorrow, they set forth to retake Wall Maria with hopes that Eren will be able to reseal the wall. And if Levi believes in anyone having a chance, it’s Eren, but anyway he looks at it, it is still a planned suicide mission at best. The amount of risk involved is not lost on him and neither is the unknown of the world or the abnormal titans, but it’s their last hope. They can believe in Eren, and he does, but believing that nothing will go wrong or that the chances of their survival are high would simply be naive. 

So maybe, Levi can’t blame him either, for the kind of determination that Eren brings that night.

“I just want to know,” Eren says with a distant look in his eyes that Levi can’t read. He can’t seem to read him at all tonight, not even the way his eyes fix with a sort of intensity that doesn’t waver under Levi’s gaze.

“I just want to know what it’s like,” he repeats, “Before I die.”

It’s the words of what someone who has accepted his fate would say. Not someone who has given up, but of someone who has long since came to accept the inevitable.

And Levi doesn’t know what to say.

Eren wants to sleep with him.

Levi can think of a million reasons why he shouldn’t. 

A million and one if he considers that he’s much older than Eren, that he’s his captain, that he’s a man of many things, but he’s not anywhere near the kind of person anyone wants to have their first time with. Hell, he can’t even promise that _he_ knows what he’s doing, and Eren coming here, to him, with this request _definitely_ shouldn’t have him feeling this sort of way -- the way his skin pricks with anticipation and he feels, the dull longing that he’s always pushed away. The feelings he shouldn't be having, shouldn’t be thinking of -- shouldn’t ever have had in the first place. 

But Eren is relentless; he shoots him down. If he’s old enough to die in battle, he’s old enough to sleep with Levi. He doesn’t care about Levi’s age, doesn’t care if Levi can’t be a-- _gentle lover_ \--doesn’t care about anything really, because they’re at war. They’ve always been and if he’s going to die, tomorrow, the day after, a week from now or next year -- Eren couldn’t care less about the consequences of the finer details to something like this.

He wants _this_. With Levi.

To some, it might sound like the rationality of an immature brat and maybe part of it is, when saying damn the consequences could certainly come back to bite them in the ass, but at the same time, it’s also just the simple truth that rings with Eren’s words. True enough that all of the rationality that sits at the tip of Levi’s tongue are suddenly the ones that sound irrational.

Eren shoots all his reasons down and stares at him with the kind of determination he’s always done so well, but Levi’s never expected that for something like this. Eren crosses his arms, stares hard enough at Levi that for the first time in his life he wonders if this is what other people feel when Levi looks at them.

And Levi argues, “That’s not, that isn’t--”

But Eren doesn’t hear any of it. 

It’s just sex. Two people getting physical, feeling good, releasing tension. Hell, it’ll probably even relieve their anxieties enough to let them sleep before the mission tomorrow if they go at it hard enough and-- if he’s being honest, this is all sounding a lot more like he’s convincing himself of why it’s okay, even when his mouth runs no.

They shouldn’t.

He does.

As the waxes of the candles in his room burn just about halfway, Levi too, feels burnt out. 

It’s just sex, he thinks. Or convinces himself, maybe. 

No big deal. 

He can have sex with Eren, he can sleep with him tonight--just one night. If it’s their last night on this hell, the least he can do is let Eren go without any regrets. 

. . . . .

**After**

Levi slides up right between Eren’s legs and Eren lets out a kind of sound that shouldn’t do what it does to him, but even after all this time, it comes back to him like the first time.

And Levi will never, _ever_ , tire of hearing Eren. 

Not of the sounds his fingers make, grasping for purchase against anything -- anywhere -- or the soft sound of his hand as it clenches into a fist. Levi will love every shift and rustle of Eren against the sheets as Levi kisses his way across every inch of his skin, still unmarred, beautiful; timeless. The only difference is Eren’s built more muscle now and Levi feels it too, when he grasps against Eren’s thighs and attempts to hold him still. 

Holds him still because Levi wants to mark him up tonight. Wants to admire the look of Eren’s skin flawed only by him, even if tomorrow the marks will fade and cease to exist. But for now, he’s _his_.

So Levi will trace his lips against Eren’s skin and kiss a little too hard. He’ll part his lips and skim his teeth up against Eren’s thighs. He’ll rake his nails just _enough_ to leave the skin tingling behind and a vocal of gasps and pleas from the man beneath.

But Levi will take his time and he’ll worship it all -- the span of Eren’s skin, the curves of his bones and edges of his hips, the dips of his body and the heart that drums beneath Levi’s touch. He’ll worship too, the blood that rushes through Eren’s veins and flushes across his body, the blood that fills out his cock against the palm of Levi’s hands and thrums with life, reminding him how Eren is very much alive.

Alive, breathing, here. He came back.

Levi will stop to kiss every pulse point, press his lips against each spot to feel the gentle beats beneath the skin. Eren will exhale, a breath of air that turns to something closer to pants, as he unravels beneath Levi’s touch.

And finally, _finally_ , when it’s sweat that sticks between them both and Levi’s worked them up long enough that they’re painfully hard, Levi will cave and give him what he wants.

. . . . .

**Before**

Eren splayed out against his bed under the too dim lights of waning candles shouldn’t make him feel what he does--too intimate, too vulnerable; humanity’s greatest hope shouldn’t trust him the way that he does, exposed on his sheets and with eyes that glimmer even in the dark, an emotion there that Levi doesn’t understand. 

“You’re too trusting,” he finds himself murmuring out loud, as he finally does dare to touch him. 

Levi traces his hands down Eren’s chest, the one that’s unblemished beneath his fingertips, the only gift he supposes that comes with being a Titan, and already Eren takes a shuddering breath. A sound that shouldn’t do what it does to him, but it’s only the beginning of what he would later find, would undo him completely.

“Because I trust you?” Eren asks, his eyes following Levi’s movements.

“Something like that,” he offers cryptically. Because _yes,_ Eren shouldn’t be trusting Levi for his first time, shouldn’t have come here tonight and Levi shouldn’t have caved. But _no_ , he wants to say, because there’s an odd amount of flips in his stomach when he thinks about Eren trusting him and if Eren couldn’t trust even his captain, then who was Levi to even deserve that title?

Eren looks just about as inexperienced as he is, but he doesn’t look nervous. Somehow, it’s Levi who feels the hint of nerves along the goosebumps of his arms. It’s Levi who can’t bear to have Eren looking at him anymore as he runs his hands across Eren’s body and works him up until Eren’s practically grinding up against his thighs. 

He's beautiful like this--flushed and pliant beneath Levi’s touch, as he blinks up at him with that look that’s all suggestive and far, far too trusting hanging off of Levi’s every move. Trusting enough that it makes Levi wonder, if just maybe--maybe--this is something more than sex, but that’s a dangerous thought, one that isn’t for soldiers off to battle. So Levi stops thinking and leans in to kiss him instead.

Kisses Eren so that he’ll close his eyes and Levi won’t have to stare back and wonder if he’s as transparent as he feels. Luckily for him, Eren does close his eyes, as his lips part and breathes right into Levi. Eren tastes like mint and tea, the hints of refreshing and comfort that Levi likes and leaves his head swirling, completely enticed by his taste alone.

So Levi kisses him again--properly, this time--his tongue prodding gently into that mouth and tracing along Eren’s lips. Eren lets him, lets him slide his tongue right along the caverns of his mouth and taste every bit of him.

Kissing Eren is softer than he imagines, more natural than he expects it to be, but it does nothing to quell his thoughts of how maybe humanity’s hope shouldn't be here with humanity’s strongest; he’s better off with someone else. 

Levi is humanity’s strongest, or so they say, but he doesn’t feel very strong. Not right now, not when he can’t help but give in to his carnal urges--the ones that end with Eren’s legs around his shoulders and Eren moaning out too loudly.

Eren is vocal, as Levi learns. Beyond vocal and honestly, Levi wonders if the whole military will know they’ve slept together after tonight, but even as Levi attempts to shush him, Levi is instead, hissing out at the too tight feel of Eren clenched around him and it takes all that he has to not thrust right into him. He’s not going to move though, he’s _not_. Not until Eren’s ready, but --

Eren shifts, pulls Levi right into him as he does so and Levi slides, further inside of him and _fuck_ , it’s good. Eren feels so good, it’s Levi who lets out an unintelligible curse loud enough to wake the dead. 

_Well_ , he supposes, it didn’t matter now, Eren could be as loud as he wants. Levi stills himself then, plants both of his hands on the side of Eren’s hips as he gasps, a crease of concern on his forehead, “ _Shit_ , I’m sorry, Eren. Are you--are you alright?”

“Mm, I’m--I’m fine,” Eren breathes. And Eren looks, well, he looks _okay_ apart from the small wince and the way his voice had been a bit off, a bit breathless. “You can...you can move, Captain.”

Levi thinks it’s because he’s tolerant to pain, tolerant of all the times he’s broken his own flesh and shifted into a titan -- and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but Levi doesn’t want to hurt him. Won’t. He doesn’t care if Eren is used to pain, it’s not pain that he wants Eren to experience tonight. Not if Eren trusts him, so he waits anyways, in spite of Eren’s words.

“Levi. Call me Levi,” he says in the meantime, voice coming out a bit strained.

Eren’s eyes widen slightly, but he does as he reassures, again, “I’m okay...Levi. Really. Please, please move.”

Levi considers it, for a moment -- a minute, three and then five. But Eren doesn’t seem to be lying and so he moves, slowly. So slowly, until it’s Eren beneath him that shifts his hips again and meets his thrust. Levi sets a pace then that builds and builds until he learns what Eren likes. The spots that make him grasp against the bedding, the touch or kiss that leaves him squirming underneath, the rhythm that drives him mad and moans out _Levi_ ’s name like it’s the only thing he knows -- and _fuck_ , his name slipping out of Eren’s lips shouldn’t sound that _good_ but it does, and he’s enjoying this way too much.

And Eren looks, _fucking divine_ , with his bottom lip lightly swollen from the way he’d bitten down on it and now, his lips parted from a mixture of pleasure and begging that Levi is more than happy to oblige to. It’s not long before Levi’s fucking Eren without abandon into the mattress and -- he takes him. He takes his first time, he takes his first kiss, he takes all of him and realizes that as he does, that he doesn’t ever want to stop.

He wants Eren, this one, and all of them -- the one unmatched on the battlefield, the one that selflessly risks his life to save his friends, the one that stepped into his quarters earlier that night, determined and relentless, and _this one_ \-- vulnerable, trusting and so goddamn debauched, Levi both wants to protect him and wreck him.

" _Levi_ ," Eren whines out as he releases the fist thrown across his lips, the one with teeth marks on it from how hard he'd bitten down to muffle his own sounds, because apparently his lips hadn’t been enough. His eyes slide shut, as he barely gets out, "I think I'm...I'm..."

"Look at me, Eren," Levi commands just as Eren’s eyes fall shut and Levi reaches out a hand to brush against the tip of his erection, that has Eren crying out beneath him.

Eren, _bless him_ , actually does -- blinks right up at Levi with eyes too wide as he chokes out a strangled cry between wanting more and _too much_ , “Oh fuck, _fuck_.”

And Levi can see, just how badly, he’s about to lose it. Eren makes the most exquisite expression when he finally does -- just about two thrusts later and Levi’s coaxing thumb against his slit -- his eyes are half lidded and his hair sticks to his forehead as sweat drips down the side of his cheeks and he comes, right into Levi’s hand. 

For once, Levi doesn’t mind the mess on his hands and it’s only fondness that he feels.

But he’s also certain of one thing --

Tonight, he’s definitely crossed a line and the longing in his chest, is _definitely_ real.

. . . . .

**After**

Because in the end, Levi will always give Eren what he wants. 

So when Eren begs with Levi’s name on his tongue, he’ll bite against Eren’s neck and he’ll taste his pulse against his skin. He’ll take Eren into his hands and stroke him when he’s close and desperate. He’ll press his cock against the spot inside of Eren over and over until he finally comes apart--white knuckles and nails against Levi’s thighs, eyes dilated--wild and ablaze. The strands of his hair will be a mess and he’ll splatter cum across his stomach, his abs, but _god_ , Eren will be perfect--just as he’s always been.

And that’s it.

It’s more than enough for Levi to lose himself. So he does, somewhere deep inside of Eren, feeling closer somehow to Eren as he does so. 

And for the moment that follows -- a long, blistering moment, as his heart races to beat straight out of his chest for Eren, _always_ Eren -- Levi will think -- _maybe_ he’s just a little bit closer to the day that Eren will return to him completely.

. . . . .

Levi’s come to love the dawn of early mornings and the hint of earth just before the world wakes fully. He loves too, the afternoon rays of light with warmth on his skin and the lights of dusk just before the stars begin to show. It’s not that he hadn’t always appreciated them, but now that he isn’t on the front lines of war worrying about walls or the titans or the rest of the world that’s out for their blood, he has more time. An indefinite amount, almost, that makes him appreciate the little things more. 

Of course, there’s still that nagging feeling in the back of his head. The one that sits uneasily in the pit of his stomach when he’s not preoccupied with other thoughts and he knows that eventually he’ll have to bring it up. Rationally, sooner rather than later would make sense.

But then he’ll glance back at Eren, who’s fast asleep on the deck, his skin a glow of gold under the last rays of sunlight so otherworldly, it only makes his heart beat faster and he’ll think--

_Not now, not today._

. . . . .

The first sunrise that Levi finds Eren out on the deck for, Levi dares to wonder if it’s not just the sun that is rising today, but also Eren.

Levi leans up against the railings as he breathes into the crisp morning air. “Eren.”

Eren tilts his head in acknowledgement, leans a little closer to Levi, but says nothing.

The sun peeks just over the trees in the distance of the forest and as the sky brightens gradually, Levi thinks, he’s seen this view many times in the span of the last months, but there’s a different kind of beauty witnessing the sunrise with Eren. 

“We used to watch the sunrise,” Eren comments.

And Levi hums in agreement. They had, but it hadn’t been quite so striking. Not stretches of golden grass and untainted fields, not without the agenda of war on their minds overcasting its beauty. It had been stolen moments just before training or the borrowed times, when Eren had snuck into Levi’s quarters the night before and they had shared the sunrise in the morning. Which makes this, if Levi thinks about it, a first time of sorts, and already it’s a fond memory in the back of his mind--one that he’s sure he’ll come to look back on.

Only, Levi had no idea just how much that would be true.

“Levi, this place is breathtaking,” Eren breathes.

And he nods too, in agreement again, without a thought.

A minute passes.

Then, Levi blinks, his eyes widening a fraction as he comprehends Eren’s words. It’s the first time since they’ve come here that Eren’s commented on the view of the fields. The ones that Levi had always hoped, one day, Eren would notice too.

It’s only been six months.

Six months since they moved here, more than a year since the war ended.

“I always hoped you’d like it,” Levi murmurs, as he attempts to steady his pulse. He can’t help it, he’d been waiting all these months. Waiting. Hoping. It’s small, it’s stupid, he knows, but even the thought that Eren is in the present today, enjoying something with Levi, makes his eyes sting. 

Eren grows quiet though and Levi sneaks a glance, but he’s frowning now. Frowning as he says, “Thank you. For everything.”

And Levi, can’t help but ask, “Something wrong?”

 _Apart from the usual_ , Levi thinks, even as he doesn’t really expect an answer.

But Eren is full of surprises today and after a while, he confesses, “Just that I’ve been awfully out of it, haven’t I? I feel like I’ve been asleep for months and...for the first time today, when I woke up, it’s like, I actually woke up.”

Then, he sighs, “I know I’m not making a lot of sense. I just...”

Levi shakes his head in response. “No, that makes sense. And, you have...a little,” he admits. “But that’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”

“You always say that now,” Eren replies doubtfully and Levi shrugs. His heart beats a little bit louder though as he raises his hand, hesitates for a moment, before he settles it on top of Eren’s, the one currently curled around the railings.

It’s the truth, it didn’t matter. However, there were certain things that did.

“Eren…” Levi starts, pulse racing uncontrollably now and maybe placing his hand against Eren’s wasn’t the greatest idea, because he wonders if Eren can feel the way he shakes.

It’s not his finest moment.

“Hm?”

Levi turns to face Eren next as he finally forces himself to ask, “How many years?”

Eren furrows his brows. “What?”

Levi swallows, again, because his throat is going dry now and his heart, he thinks is louder than it’s ever been. “How many years do you have left to live?”

It’s another moment of silence, one that feels like forever for Levi, before Eren understands what Levi is asking and he blinks. 

“None.”

_None._

And Levi’s hand tightens against Eren’s, tightens as his heart drops. Drops so fucking far that he swears that even when he expected to hear two or _one_ , he hadn’t been prepared for this. Hearing that Eren’s run out of time--that he’s only got months, weeks, or _hell_ , possibly days left to live--makes him realize just how much he hadn’t been ready. He’s not sure he ever would be, but the simple word “none” hurts him so much more than he ever imagined it to.

Eren’s eyes widen though and Levi thinks that maybe he’s giving too much of himself away, that despite how he’d been trying to hide it before, he’s finally an open book. But then he realizes too, a bit hysterically, what does it matter if Eren knows just how much it pains him when soon enough, he won’t be around to see any of Levi’s pains?

Except, Eren’s blurting out more words. Words that are lost among the fog that clouds Levi’s brain from the reality of losing Eren.

“Levi, wait. I mean, I broke the curse.”

And, and-- _what?_

Levi stares, dumbly he’s sure, as Eren continues on, “None as in, I don’t...I don’t have any time limit. Not anymore.”

Levi opens his mouth, but no words come out. He’s not sure that he can believe the words his ears seem to register and it’s just cold that he feels on his face, but he’s realizing now that Eren’s looking at him in panic and Levi really should be getting a hold of himself.

“Levi, are you--?”

 _Crying_.

Apparently.

Because that’s what the cold on his face is, the tears that had slipped out of his eyes when he had been taken off guard. He finds, he doesn’t care though and instead, he rushes out all at once, “You’re going to live?”

“I…,” Eren pauses and maybe it’s the first time Eren’s coming to terms with the meaning of those words too, not just Levi. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to live,” Eren repeats and he looks a bit...a bit relieved, hopeful, _alive_.

“You’re going to live,” Levi repeats, as if saying them out loud from his own lips will make it truer.

His heart skips a beat. Then, Levi is blinking through the tears and pulling Eren so close to him, he’s sure the other man can feel the way his heart beats, too. He half laughs and half huffs out in a mixture of relief and feelings he still can’t get a hold of, “Shit, Eren. You scared me. You scared me so fucking much and all this time, I thought...I thought...”

“I’m sorry,” Eren breathes, muffled by how tightly he was being hugged, but Levi doesn’t care, the edges of his lips curling into a smile because yeah--he’s fucking smiling _and_ crying now.

And, and...for the first time, the feeling inside of him stirs so intensely, there’s only one thing left. One thing he wants to say out loud now. He’s not sure why he hasn’t, but he wants to see Eren’s face when he does, just in case--in case that Eren doesn’t already know, even if he’s sure he’s been blindingly obvious.

So Levi pulls back, his fingers still curled around Eren’s shoulders as he does so and Eren’s staring at him with wide eyes as Levi confesses, “I love you.”

Eren’s still looking at him, confused, but stunning--fucking _stunning_ with the light rays of the sunshine as his backdrop--and it’s truly the only sight he wants to look at--now, and forever. 

“I love you Eren, I love you so fucking much.”

And for the first time since Levi let him go back then, Eren smiles. Smiles and looks... _alive_. Miles and miles of endless field in the perfect shade of gold, Levi thinks, can’t hold a candle to the kind of light that is Eren’s smile.

It’s blinding; it's the essence of what he thinks, people describe to be feeling in shitty romance novels when they’re in love. But well, he _is_. And the way Eren’s eyes light up, the spark of life within what had been dulled for so long, is just about as close as it used to be -- once upon a time, when the war hadn’t broken Eren. But Eren’s always been more of humanity’s strongest than Levi thinks he’ll ever be. He may have been broken, he may have been the flames of their war, and now the ashes of this world, but like a phoenix from the ashes, he will rise again. 

And with today's sun, he did.

He came back.

If only he had known that confessing out loud was all it took to bring back that light into Eren’s eyes, then he’d have sooner uttered those words out loud.

“I love you, too, Levi."

Eren's words are softer than his own. He’s got a slight blush on his face that makes him years younger and brings the kind of nostalgia that Levi raises an eyebrow to as he asks slowly, “But you knew that I did already...didn’t you?”

All those years, he thinks, surely Eren had known. But Eren looks almost...bashful as he shrugs and Levi exhales.

“I’ve always loved you,” Levi confesses easily. “And I always will. I told you to come back, didn't I?”

Eren smiles, again, "Yeah. Yeah you did."

And he did.

Levi let him go once, but never again.


End file.
